A Scrat Thanksgiving
by LCDemaree
Summary: In this comical short story, Scrat finds himself locked up in the Wal-Nut Supermarket over the Thanksgiving holiday and ends up as quite possibly the most thankful little creature on the planet! Very silly, light, and a bit experimental.


Closing time at the Wal-Nut Supermarket in downtown Los Angeles is always extended two hours on the eve before Thanksgiving. From the beginning, some protested, thinking of labor at such a hallowed and family-oriented time to be an abomination. Yet, none griped nearly as much as the young college students to whom a few hours of dignified sleep before some severe family time the next day was the most "hallowed" concern of all. A prime example of one of these griping, dozy, lazy eyed book eaters is our friend, Reginald. For it was by his first and only mistake that this, the greatest misadventure in the history of the Wal-Nut Supermarket chain came to be.

3:30 AM. All of the aisles are cleared, the shoppers are gone, and the employees are dashing out into the warm, dingy holiday air. It has been entrusted to Reginald for the past couple of months to lock up and check the thermostats. A simple enough responsibility, one would think, but when you've been studying for four hours and on your feet for six, little things do go unnoticed. Yes, little things like one or two thermostats and ice storage room that a fellow employee left wide open, go unnoticed.

You don't have to visit Los Angeles very long or even visit it at all to know that ice melts fast there. You just might have to take my word for it when I say that a poorly chilled supermarket is no exception. But take my word for it. It is no exception. (If you simply cannot be convinced, this is fiction!) … for at exactly 4:17 AM, the vacant, flooded aisles had a newly defrosted, darling, snuggle-butt-bug of an inhabitant who with one swift wiggle of the nose was on a relentless hunt for NUTS and would not tire until he had them all in claw!

Over the wet tiles he scurried, slipped and slid. After slamming into three freezers by his loss of traction on the soggy terrain, Scrat knew that it was time to get inventive. But how? To his right there were the freezers, to his left, the bakery. The bakery was lined with tables that were topped with wooden bowls of rolls and baguettes. If he could tug hard enough on the table cloth, the bowls and bread would fall to the floor and he could use the bowl as a boat and a small baguette as an oar, enabling him to navigate the shallow waters with ease. It was fool proof! It was brilliant! It was… not going to happen. Not so long as a large sign that read "Pecan Pies" underscored by an aroma rich enough to drive any squirrel mad were present.

The sign was straight ahead, an open-topped freezer with the pies inside was under it, waiting for him. He giggled, covering his mouth with his sharp little claws. If he could pick up enough speed in the right direction, he could propel himself up the slightly slanted sides of the freezer. So, Scrat pushed himself with all his might, flying across the floor, through the air and into his desired destination. His eyes snapped open, widening immediately. The greedy Los Angeles shoppers had left behind at least 30 perfect pecan pies!

He popped the lid off of one attempted to claw out his first decadent pecan. Alas! Alas! It would not come out! The thing was frozen solid! The more he scratched, the more he bit, the more he hit it on the side of the freezer, the more impossible it seemed to loosen any of the pecans! In frustration, he threw it over the edge and onto the floor. Upon collision, Scrat could hear it shatter and was amazed at what he saw. A grin. No questions asked, he began picking up pie after pie and throwing them over the sides. Then he descended with glee to claim his prize. One gnaw, however, and he could see that the pecans were not yet ready for him to enjoy. Unless… somehow, the melted water could thaw them out! "Since ice freezes things," Scrat thought, "water must do the opposite of freeze. Water is, after all the opposite of ice!" He beamed, sloshing the pecans around in the water with great enthusiasm.

Several minutes passed. He scratched a pecan to test it and when his claws broke through the surface, he knew that he had proven his theory. So Scrat took a great… big… bite. "YEEOOWW!" The pecan fell to the floor followed by one of his sharp little molars. He jumped here and there, shrieking in pain and slipping about. When he finally came to his senses, the only thing he felt like doing was picking up the pecans and throwing them as far away from him as humanly… rodently possible. So he sought revenge on the pecans! For about five seconds. When one of them landed in a bowl of baguettes, his original plan was rekindled. How could he have been so counterproductive? So vengeful? It didn't matter now, the boat was as good as his and the vast land of unexplored aisles, each of them full of adventures hidden treasures awaited him!

When the bowl reached the ground, Scrat found that it was not only full of baguettes but a thing called soda bread that had raisins baked into it along with, you guessed it, nuts! Walnuts! He kept a loaf just for himself, plucking them out as he rowed along. Towards the end of the baked goods section, he spotted a display full of jars of something called "Nutella". He pulled one off of the shelf, broke the seal and dug in head first. Upon finishing the jar in record time, his face and claws were completely covered with the delectable, sticky substance. But Scrat didn't mind at all. He just pulled off another jar. Then another and then another, stopping from time to time to slather some on the soda bread. After cleaning the entire display, he moved on and it wasn't long before he came across a similar stand packed with peanut butter. It, too, was cleaned in under a minute.

As he turned into the cereal aisle, the smell of walnuts and pecans was so overwhelming, he could hardly think. His eyes went directly to a box on the top shelf that read, "Grape Nuts" and figured that was what he was looking for. He just had to climb. And oh, did he climb! Boxes fell from underneath him as he made his way up, up, up to the summit of the shelves. All the while, the aroma was so rampant in his shaking nose that he grew unaware of just how high up he was. After he successfully knocked the box off of the shelf and into the boat, Scrat started to make his descent. Started. And panicked. He raced to the bottom with such force that he brought down the shelving in its entirety! Thankfully, he made it to his boat and was thrust out of the collision, Grape Nuts and all. But you know all about the domino effect, I'm sure!

Clasping the box, his already colossal eyeballs grew and grew and grew as he watched the catastrophe unfold. But it was far worse than it seemed. He sniffed the box. Could it be? No! He had been tricked! Tricked by… false advertisement! For when he ripped the box open, tiny wheat puffs flew everywhere. No grapes, no nuts. Just tiny wheat puffs. "AAAHHH!" He tore the pieces to pieces and the pieces of the pieces to pieces and then he stomped on them! He sunk down in the bowl and yanked a final walnut from the soda bread. As he munched, he looked down at the damp boxes and bobbing cans. And then… there they were. The entire nut aisle was floating his way! Almonds! Cashews! Pine nuts! Pistachios! Coconuts! You name it! He piled them all into the boat.

Not even once for thousands and thousands of years did he feel such joy, such rapture! He devoured them all into the morning and throughout Thanksgiving Day. You hardly could have found a more thankful creature! And when at last the water drained out into the parking lot and he could move about freely, he even got hold of the pecans that he tossed aside, all other nuts in the bakery, and in those the boxes of cereal.

You're probably wondering what happened on the day after Thanksgiving when the store reopened, no? At 6:00 AM sharp, the ever trustworthy Reginald arrived and after taking one look at the mess, he fainted. (Naturally.) So it was not until the arrival of the manager twenty-some minutes later that the scene was thoroughly investigated and the culprit was found, draped over a large bowl with a bag of walnuts in claw, and a severely enlarged belly. He simply could not believe his eyes! He ran to the back and called his manager who called his manager who called the company's president, Mr. Waldorf Nuhdt, asking him to fly down immediately because some unidentifiable beast destroyed the supermarket over the holiday.

"What exactly is that!" Asked one employee.

"It couldn't have caused destruction by itself… could it?" Asked another.

"It's a fruitarian demon! Minus the fruit!" Cried the manager.

"Wouldn't that be a nutarian or a nutavore?" Said Reginald mockingly, rising from the floor and rubbing his forehead.

"You're a nutavore!"

All of this racket caused Scrat to awaken from his deep and joyful sleep. "SQUEEEK!" He rolled out of the bowl and attempted to scamper away but ended up on his stomach, his feet unable to reach the floor.

"This is all Reginald's fault, I'll have you know!" A female employee squeaked.

"My fault? I locked all the doors! He must have already been inside the store. Living in the bakery, perhaps." Reginald retorted.

"No, no. I know what that is." A deep and powerful voice said from behind them. It was Dr. Waldorf Nuhdt himself! "And frankly I am ashamed at each and every one of you for knowing so little of the Wal-Nut Supermarket's history!"

"What do you mean? I know everything there is to know about Wal-Nut! I have been manager for 15 years," growled the manager.

"Do you, now? What is the creature between the Wal and the Nut in the front of the store?"

There was a momentary silence and then out of nowhere came a tiny squeak. Everyone looked down on the floor and Scrat pointed at himself, grinning and nodding most fervently.

"How he ended up here is a complete mystery to me," said Dr. Nuhdt, scooping a relieved Scrat up into his arms, "a saber-toothed squirrel is normally not an easy thing to lose! I shall take him up to the main headquarters in Acornville, Oregon where he will be more comfortable. After he helps you clean up the mess, of course."

Scrat shook his head and pouted at first, but with a tiny bit of persuasion from a learjet full of gifties from a place called Acornville, Oregon, Scrat loved up to the idea of a tiny bit of squirrel-sized manual labor. After all, he would do just about anything for a good old fashioned acorn even after spending over 24 hours in a very large supermarket packed with treats and dedicated entirely to him!


End file.
